


Fourteen shades of red

by cyndrarae



Series: Snapshots!verse [5]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of X3, Logan finds an amnesiac Scott, but bringing the kid back home will be harder than he thinks. Important to read Forgotten and Sins of Men first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourteen shades of red

**Author's Note:**

> This is fanon of course. Assumed Erik and Charles were still friends when Scott first came to the mansion at age of 16. And his mutation hit him at puberty, that is at about 12.

**

They put him in a chair and spoke to him for what felt like hours. Scott listened, as carefully as he could over the thunderous beating of his heart, nodding at  _hopefully_ all the right places. Hank’s touch on the back of his left hand startled him, made him realize he’d been clutching the table’s edge hard enough to leave marks on the elegant mahogany.

“Trust us Scott. This is definitely the one.”

Professor Xavier’s voice washed over him soothingly, and Scott sighed. Of course he trusted them. Of course it was going to be okay, he told himself. And what was the worst he could do anyway? Drill another meteoroid-sized crater into Xavier’s palatial grounds? Been there, done that.

“Come now, let’s not fret.” Came another, lightly sardonic voice from somewhere behind him. “The landscaping industry is plateauing in New York. You’d be doing someone a huge favor if you ask me.”

Scott would have rolled his eyes if they weren’t taped shut but Hank growled loudly enough for the both of them.

“Alright that’s enough. Hank?”

At Xavier’s instruction he was stood up and led to the open balcony adjacent to Charles’ study. Scott stretched out his hands until he touched the rails and held on, craning for the sounds that followed him… the comforting whirr of Charles’ wheelchair, the solid footsteps of Dr. Hank McCoy, and the soft fluttering of his other guardian, Erik Lensherr’s overcoat.

He held out a hand, waited until it closed around another one of Hank’s contraptions… lighter this time, which confused him. If this was supposed to block his optic beams shouldn’t it be like, bigger? Solider? The last one got blown to smithereens so fast he didn’t even get a chance to see it.

Hank’s hands surprisingly gentle for someone so massive, tilted his head back until it rested on his giant chest. He tugged away the tape on Scott’s eyes and just as kindly turned him loose.

“Go ahead. Put them on.”

Scott sighed, _here we go again_. He put on the glasses, made sure his eyes were completely covered by the thick lenses and lowered his hands to his sides. Silence fell in the balcony as everyone waited.

And waited.

// Scott. //

The sixteen year old started. The Professor’s voice was coming from inside his own head. He still wasn’t used to that.

// It’s okay. Open your eyes. //

// … //

// It’s going to be alright, son. //

// It’s just… hard… //

Which was all he managed, knowing the Professor would understand. Hard to quash the guilt he felt every time he imposed on the kind man’s generosity by destroying some more of his property. Hard to pretend he didn’t see the destruction his eyes were capable of, if he ever lost control. Hard to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed mercilessly.

“Summers,” Erik tried.

“…”

“Let’s go. Open those lovely blue peepers already.”

Scott was breathing hard, his heart racing unbelievably fast. Charles sat back and smiled.

“Erik, I believe they _are_.”

 

****

 

He was having that dream again.

The one with the dark stormy night as the very clichéd backdrop, but it wasn’t a nightmare, not really. He was walking in the hard rain, making his way stealthily through narrowing lanes, entering the massive arched structure so intimidating it could only be a church. Then he reached the confessional box, caressing the red mahogany with his fingertips before going inside. And then he closed the door behind him, trapping himself in an eternal darkness as everything went pitch black.

The first few times, that would be the point when he would gasp and force himself awake. After the sixth time though, he got curious. So next time when everything went pitch black, he took a seat inside the little box… and he waited.

_// Don’t you think I’m hot,_ Father _? //_

Lightning flashed, followed by thunder rolling overhead and just for a tenth of a second, he could see as clear as day. There was something, no, _someone_ on the other side of the wooden panel. That face… not conventionally attractive in the least and yet… so remarkable, so frighteningly forceful. Scott had a feeling he was supposed to know that face…

“Scott?”

“…”

Logan shook him gently, amused at how tame Scott’s nightmares were compared to his own. Cyke was shaking his head in his sleep and mumbling something he couldn’t quite understand.

It was easy to pinpoint the exact moment Scott woke, because his entire body suddenly went deathly still, taut as a bowstring. He didn’t open his eyes, of course. Logan propped himself up on an elbow and pulled the covers around Scott up to the middle of his naked chest. Rested his hand there for a while.

“You okay?”

Scott swallowed, acutely aware of Logan’s eyes on him. “Was I… am I a religious person?”

“What?”

“Do I go to church? A lot?”

Logan frowned. He hadn’t known Cyke so well, but had assumed he would be the type of person who’d put more faith in scientific rationale than some unknown entity called God.

“I don’t think so. But, I didn’t know you so well back then.”

Scott sat up and leaned against the headboard, mindful that the covers kept his nude body hidden from Logan’s eyes. Which was strange considering Logan had very closely examined every intimate inch of him in the last six days. When Logan was a stranger, just another jo’, it was somehow okay to not care. But apparently he was not, and Scott couldn’t help but worry that he was being judged, compared, mocked at for being the whore that he was.

This morning Logan had revealed that he knew Scott… from a time that Scott had absolutely no recollection of. And he’d told him all these fantastical stories about a charmed life. A benevolent professor who’d taken Scott in for no other motive except to look after him. Educate him. Train him to become the leader of… what was it Logan had said?

The X-Men?

And it didn’t stop there. Apparently he, Scott Summers, had a college degree! He was a business major from Columbia University, how the hell did that happen? How the hell did they even let a blind mutie in, in the first place?

He had laughed in Logan’s face.

Scott knew it was close to noon, somehow he could always tell time despite his blindness. He must have fallen asleep again, dog-tired from all the raunchy sex last night followed by the shock of his life this morning, trying to assimilate all the new information. But despite it all, waking up next to Logan, he’d felt the safest he had in a very long time.

“So how come we never hooked up before?”

Logan sighed, sitting up himself and clasping his hands behind his head. “I told you. I didn’t know you were, uh, bi. And you were taken. Had a fiancé.”

“Right. Jean Grey.”

Logan flinched at the sound of her name sliding off Scott’s tongue so carelessly. It was obvious Scott really did not remember how much she once meant to him.

“The one who tried to kill me and is probably the reason for my amnesia.”

“Uh… yeah, maybe.”

“And then you killed her.”

Logan winced again. “Yes but it wasn’t really Jean, it was her alter ego who…”

“Phoenix yeah, sure, whatever. I’m getting a headache.”

Logan suspected the reason Scott was being so cavalier with the whole Jean/Phoenix story, was that he didn't believe it. Scott rubbed his temples in circular motion, a gesture Logan was keenly familiar with.

“You know why you get these headaches right?”

Scott paused. “No. Why?”

“It’s all the optic energy build up behind your retinas. You have chronic migraines because of your mutation and far as I know, Jean had you on some sort of medication. I imagine shooting off in the danger room twice a day used to help. A lot.”

Scott had to scoff, snort, whatever. Danger Room. Cyclops. Wolverine. X-Men. This was all so freaky. All he’d hoped was for this gorgeous mountain of a man to want him, keep him, love him if that were remotely possible. Logan was supposed to be his ticket out of hell, his escort to a better life because he’d had a very good feeling about him. Scott was pretty sure Logan liked him. A lot. As much as he’d come to like the quiet man himself.

Clearly, ‘whackjob’ was not part of the desirable specifications. And now he wasn’t so sure the ticket wouldn’t lead him out of one hell and straight into another.

Scott stood up, holding the covers around his waist and followed the intensity of light on his closed eyelids until he was standing at the door that opened into the balcony. About as much distance as he could put between them without going out of earshot, he guessed, because he wasn’t done asking.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“We didn’t. We thought you were dead. But about two weeks ago, someone sent us a news clipping in the mail.”

Scott frowned. There was only one thing that could have made the news, he’d been completely discreet since then.

“The hospital news six months ago, when I blew out their roof?”

Logan sighed loudly. “That’s the one. Was marked in red, with a handwritten caption that said ‘Lost Something?’”

Scott snorted, not that it was funny.

“There was no mistaking what had done that sort of damage. I just had to look it up, and the trail led me to you.”

But it didn’t make any sense. Apparently someone recognized him, and sent word to these X-something people to come get him like they fucking _owned_ him. Did they? Why were these people interested in him anyway?

“It’s the mansion. Isn’t it?”

Scott felt the temperature in the room tangibly drop a couple of degrees. He deciphered the sounds of the other man getting out of bed, the rustling of clothes as he must have dressed himself, and worried that Logan was going to leave. He couldn’t help but tremble with relief when Logan finally spoke.

“It’s true the mansion passed on from Xavier to you and Jean jointly, and with Jean also dead, you became the sole beneficiary. But since you’re officially dead, as per your will the mansion now belongs to Storm. Ororo Munroe.”

Scott frowned and turned, making a phone with his right hand and holding it up to his face. Logan nodded before remembering Scott couldn’t see it.

“Yeah. That was her on the phone this morning.”

The woman who’d wanted so badly to talk to him. She missed him. Scott shook his head and chuckled shortly. “Okay, so it’s not the mansion.”

Logan could have easily disposed of him six days ago, if it were. Scott turned away again, his frustrations growing with every second at being unable to figure this out.

“I don’t get it. Why me? After so long? What do you want from me?”

Logan moved, fast and soundless, and next thing Scott knew, his biceps were grasped in Logan’s huge hands and he was being pulled around and up flush against the other man’s body. Forced to tilt his head up because Logan was seeking out Scott’s lips with his own… claiming his mouth with such violent desperation, it made Scott’s head spin.

The bed covers dropped to the floor forgotten, his modesty the absolute last thing on his mind when Scott took his hands and wrapped them around Logan’s neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. Logan wrapped his own arms around the narrow waist, one hand curled up in Scott’s hair and they stood entwined for several minutes because damned if this wasn’t the first time since they met that they’d kissed.

Hell, it was the first time they’d kissed… ever.

Logan hauled him up, making Scott wrap his legs around his waist and then carried Scott back to the center of the room. They didn’t wait for lube and felt no need for condoms because soon after lowering Scott to the bed, Logan unzipped himself and entered him with one resolute thrust. Scott gasped, quickly adjusting to the feeling of being inescapably stuffed before Logan started to move.

Was this supposed to answer all his questions or silence them? Scott didn’t know and frankly right then, he couldn’t care less. Held his feral lover trapped between his arms and long legs with just enough leeway to allow him to thrust in and out. He pulled Logan’s head down to his so he could run his mouth all over Logan’s rough, stubbled face. Everything burned so deliciously, from his panting lips down to his unlubricated anus, to the tips of his bony shoulder blades that Logan was busy carving his blunt fingernails into.

“I came for _you_ , Cyke. _You_.”

Scott arched up from the bed, whimpering at the resounding intensity of Logan’s words. Somehow he still couldn’t believe but before he could react, a hand closed around his painfully hard erection, jerking him off in tandem with the pounding in his ass.

“And I am _not_ leaving without you.”

At which Scott moaned endlessly, falling back on the bed content to let Logan have his way. A particularly rough jerk later, Scott clenched his eyes shut tight and came, coming so hard that left his entire body spasming for several seconds. Logan filled up his insides with his own release, collapsing right on top of Scott, struggling to catch his breath.

When Logan moved to one side and looked into his blind lover’s face, he saw a couple of teardrops glistening at the edge of those insanely long eyelashes. He swallowed hard and bit his lip, wondering if there was anything he could say to make this easier for Scott, but there wasn’t. Scott was the one to break the silence.

“It’s just… hard…”

Hard to believe in something he’d trained himself _not_ to expect or hope for, a lifetime ago. Hard to pretend that he was prepared, having been lost in darkness for so many years of his life already, to spend the rest of it in hopelessness as well. Hard to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed mercilessly.

A soft whispering in his ear, like shushing, eventually succeeded in pulling him under and Scott slept. His dreams were once again full of fiery explosions and creepy high ceilings inside creepy old churches and that face, lit up eerily by a fleeting flash of lightning…

_// But see the thing is,_ Father _… this lusting for the new guy? She ain’t the only one doing it. //_

Scott was woken up minutes later by an unfamiliar voice at the edge of the room.

“Please sign here.”

No scribbling. Scott had to remind himself what the year was. 2006. The age of electronic signatures.

“Thank you.”

The door closed. He could feel Logan’s presence in the room, the heavy thump of his footsteps on the plush carpet now comfortingly familiar. Scott was back under the covers, clearly drawn up by the other man while he slept.

“I’ve got something for you here Cyke. Might help you remember.”

Scott sat up, cynical but hopeful, if that were possible. Logan came over, ripping something plastic on the way. Sat down by his side on the bed and picked up Scott’s right hand by his wrist.

“What is it?”

“Put it on.”

His fingers were made to close around something circular and… glasses? A freakin’ pair of glasses. Yet another tool to prettily disguise his handicap. Scott sighed.

“Why?”

“Just do it, alright?”

“But…”

“Jesus Cyke, can’t you ever do anything I tell ya to do without arguing about it?”

“…”

“…”

Scott smirked. “Why do I get the feeling we’ve had this conversation before?”

Logan chuckled in return. “See it’s working already. Now put it on.”

So Scott relented, pulled on the glasses over his eyes, fitting the elastic sports band around his head. Pursed his lips comically as he did so.

“Happy?”

Logan huffed. “Not quiet. You have to open your eyes.”

Scott froze. No way.

“Scott. Trust me. It’s okay. Open your eyes.”

Scott made to get out of bed, away from the raving lunatic who didn’t know what he was asking for, except the raving lunatic was in the way and wouldn’t let him.

“Logan…”

“I know… I’ve seen first hand what you can do _Cyclops_. Hell you’ve hit me a couple of times with those things and I’m still here. So don’t you worry, alright? I got you.”

_Got you my ass_. Scott breathed hard. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t…

“C’mon Cyke… open them baby blue peepers already.”

Scott swallowed, hard, his throat closing up painfully. He lowered his head so his gaze would be focused straight on his thighs. From a recent accidental experience he’d figured out that the deadly beams didn’t hurt him at all. His body seemed to just… absorb them, just like his eyelids did.

Tiny little sparkles started to form at the center of the oval lenses accentuating the strength and squareness of his jaw. And then the sparkles turned to big crimson swirls lighting up the glasses in their entirety. Lighting up his very face.

Logan couldn’t help but gasp, and his usually grim face broke into a wide grin in amazement and pure joy. Red never looked so beautiful to him before. And neither did Scott.

“Cyke? Say something…”

“…”

Logan sighed, ‘kay maybe not yet. Shifted to sit next to Scott so he could put his arms around the trembling shoulders.

Words could not describe the shock… the sharp, intense disbelief coursing through his system, burning him up from the inside out. Slowly, painfully, Scott Summers realized he had just opened his eyes to the world for the first time in four years. If he counted the years that he could not remember, he was looking at a nice hefty number of fourteen. This was his world fourteen years of darkness later, suddenly thrown open to light… red and dim as it may be, who fucking cared. Something was better than nothing at all. And red was better than pitch black any day.

Any fucking day.

He could see the bed, the carpeted floor and the little coffee table in the corner even though he had no idea what their actual colors were. Everything was in shades of red. He could see the open doors and the sprawling balcony beyond. The trees, the leaves on trees… some scarlet and some maroon owing to the onset of fall. He could see the scrapers, the wide open sky, the fluffy irregular formations that could only be what they called clouds…

“Scott?”

Logan’s deep voice broke through his trance and Scott turned to his left to look for the very first time into his benefactor’s face.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing… that compelling face in the lightning, the man emerging from the dark.

“It’s you…”

Logan frowned, not understanding. Tears streamed down Scott’s face that suddenly looked about ten years younger. He fell forward until Logan caught him, resting his entire body weight against the older man as he let years of tears escape at last.

“Do you remember me?”

Scott just stared, unresponsive as stone, as if he didn’t even hear him. Logan gave up and simply held Scott to himself, rocking back and forth. He was hopeful and content that progress had been made. Tomorrow they would return to the mansion and he would let Hank do his magic, make his Scott whole again. For now, this would have to do. The vision had to have brought back something with it. A memory, an image… anything…

‘It’s you… it’s really you…”

 

*****END*****

 

A/N: Pls let me know what you think?


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